The Usual Rules
by gymchick
Summary: Roy is reconsidering his goals. Riza is running away from one dream to save another. And Havoc is learning the worst kind of love is the kind that never starts. Sometimes, the usual rules just don't apply.
1. Prolouge

**A/N: This is my first fic, so please let me know what you think--even if it's a flame, it's still feedback. Also, keep in mind that this is minamally beta-ed so if anybody feels it's worth looking over feel free!**

**Disclaimer for ALL CHAPTERS: don't own it. **

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Revolution in Warfare**

As his tired eyes fluttered open, the fluorescent white lights burned his vision. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes, he felt a light pressure on his forearm successfully stopping his weak attempt to block out the brightness.

"Just lie still now, Mustang, almost done."

He snapped his eyes closed again. He was cold, despite the fact that the air all around him was scalding; icy pinpricks stabbed at his skin wherever the pale flesh was exposed.

"A few more stitches and you're set." The first voice said again, a voice that now, as his mind slowly cleared, he could recognize as being very deep and male. Did he know that voice? He was sure he did.

Roy opened his mouth to ask, only to find his throat painfully dry to the point where the only sound that came out was a cross between a gasp and a choke. He tried to inhale, only to find he couldn't. He panicked, trying in vain to sit up and clear his air way.

A large hand pushed him gently back down.

"Don't talk now. Just lie still." The male voice commanded. As the large hand pressed surprisingly softly to his forehead, he could smell the bitter tang of anapestic and suddenly it all dawned on him:

_Hospital._

The memories of the attack came rushing back with full force. The events that had led to his current situation, all too clear far too soon. He involuntarily shivered as the sounds and sights of the whole ordeal played back through his mind.

The man spoke to him again, but as to what he said Roy would never know. There was a darkness creeping through his mind, blotting out the macabre images and replacing them with a comforting nothingness. As the last of the light slowly faded, he did little to fight it—surrendering completely to the unknown of sleep.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind the doctor as he stepped out into the hallway. That had been his twentieth patient of the night at least, and this was only the beginning. As more and more men were rolled in he grew less and less faithful to 'the cause'. In his mind, there was no cause that was worth the lives of all the young men he had seen laid out before him tonight. The thought off all the men he had yet to see in the next few hours only affirmed this further.

If you spend your life saving people, he pondered, perhaps there's no way you can justify anything that only causes more death.

A petite nurse ran over to him, dark locks bobbing the whole way until she stood dwarfed in his shadow. She handed him another stack of charts and he sighed. The night was still young, and time was not on the side of either him or his patients.

* * *

The next time Roy opened his eyes, he was greeted again by the burning of lights. Only this time, instead of the sharp glow of the fluorescents from before, it was the warm honey colored sunshine from the nearby open window. He slowly worked his gaze away from the window and around the room, scanning each detail with careful consideration.

His throat was even more excruciatingly dry than before, each breath he took burned all the way down to his lungs. He shifted to sit up and immediately felt the blinding hot shoot of pain blossom from his side and travel all the way up his torso in one violent shudder.

Roy fell back onto the bed, gasping painfully for breath. Each gasp burned more than the one before—it felt like his whole airway was torn and raw. Even if it killed him, he needed water and he needed it now!

Shifting again, he fought through the pain as he slowly sat up. Carefully, he slid both of his legs from the bed and pushed himself onto his feet with and uneasy wobble. He leaned against the wall, and using it as a guide slowly began to make his way towards the door.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, coming closer with each step. Roy froze.

"I can't believe this!" The voice belonging to the first set of footsteps said. From the sound of his walk, Roy could guess that he was probably a very large man.

The voice of the second set of footsteps owner spoke next, "A wife and kids." He sighed, "What a shitty way to end."

Roy's mind wheeled desperately, did he know anybody like that? Had he known that person?

The first man spoke again, "I don't want to be the one to break it to her. That's your job."

"You could just get the next Colonel to do it for you." Judging by the sound of their footsteps they were right outside the door now.

"And who's that?"

The second man laughed, "You're never going to believe this; remember the little upstart from out east a few years ago?"

"You're kidding? Him?" The footsteps kept going past the doorway, the voices fading as the two got further away. Before they got completely out of earshot Roy could make out one last thing:

"That's right, the next Colonel of the Armistris Army is, Roy Mustang…"

* * *

**kinda short. sorry. The beginning is always the hardest part... if you got this far, thanks for reading! I hope this gets better in the future and isn't a waste of your time!**


	2. Edge of Reason

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who reviewed the rather crappy prolouge/first chapter. I think this one is MUCH better. I'm considering just deleting the prolouge, because I think that maybe this is a better place to start. Let me know what you think. Also do you think this needs a better summary? Sorry, I'll shut up now. Thanks again for reading.**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Edge of Reason **

Once again he found himself laid out on the pale white sheets, the overly sterile smell that always seemed to linger in hospitals carefully laced into the crisp fabric. He blinked several times to fight off the darkness that threatened to call him back. How many times had he found himself in this position since that day—the first time? He didn't know.

"Sir?" Havoc tentatively questioned from beside him. When he got no response from the colonel, he asked again, "Mustang?"

"How long?"

"What?" Havoc asked, confused. He swept his blue eyes over the stoic colonel, who kept his gaze focused gravely on the ceiling.

He repeated himself. "How long."

Havoc hesitated, but the tone in the colonel's voice indicated that it wasn't a question. "…10 days."

The immediate feeling of a great weight crushing down on his chest was overwhelming. He exhaled and pressed his eyes closed tightly. His heart wanted to ask if there was anybody else, but his mind already knew the answer.

* * *

_Riza,_

_Sorry I couldn't write back sooner—things around here have been crazy since we lost all those men. There have been massive shortages, and being the good soldier I am, I've been doing my part to help out._

_I've got some good news for though—guess who finally woke up? _

_He's been awake for three days, but he's not really himself. He's paler and won't talk to anybody. I've got to admit—we're all a bit worried. He's always bounced back in the past, but that was when Hughes was around to knock some sense into him. _

_Don't worry about Mustang, though. I'll keep a good eye on him and keep you posted._

_Write back soon,_

_Jean._

Havoc sighed as he folded the letter into an envelope and it in the post box.

"Sending for a mail-order bride?" Breda teased walking up and greeting his friend with a sharp slap on the back.

Havoc exhaled a cloud of smoke, before saying thoughtfully, "Yeah. Something like that."

"Shit, man! Why didn't you tell me?" Breda gave a smug grin. "We could've gotten a deal: two for one!"

* * *

"I'm ready to leave now." Mustang said in a grave monotone, his dark eyes devoid of any of their usual emotion. He turned back to stare out the window—where he spent most of his days the past few weeks watching the people below shuffle by.

The doctor consulted his charts with a wrinkled brow. "I'm not so sure, Mr. Mustang. Have you eaten anything today? The nurse told me you didn't even touch your breakfast."

Mustang turned his empty gaze to meet the doctors, "I'm not sick." He said, "You can't keep me here."

There was a pregnant pause as the doctor pretended to be preoccupied with the charts fastened to his clipboard. Physically, Mustang was well enough to leave. But mentally? He wasn't so sure.

"Alright. You can go. Just take it easy for awhile, okay?"

Mustang nodded obediently, and grabbing his jacket slipped out the door.

The doctor sighed. He had seen the emotionless glaze to the colonel's eyes—staying in the hospital really wasn't helping him. He was better, outwardly, and as a grown man, he couldn't treat him like a child or help him against his will. he just hoped he hadn't made the wrong decision.

* * *

_Riza,_

_What's taking you so long to write? Are you ignoring me? _

_Just thought I would let you know the Colonel has checked out of the hospital and is now safely behind a desk.. I haven't spoken to him yet, but I'll let you know when I do._

_Seriously though, write soon. I don't' think it's fair I go through the trouble of writing if you're not going to gratify me with a response._

_Jean._

Riza folded his letter carefully and slipped it into the pocket of her bag. She was relieved to hear the Colonel was okay, but the situation still worried her.

She had heard about the attack a few days later, and by the time the casualty accounts were rolling in she had carefully built up her defenses in case names she knew showed up. She may be a hardened soldier, but she was a human first and foremost.

It was one of the moments when she regretted not being in Central—she felt useless as the list of names did nothing but grow. Everyday she would scan through to make sure he hadn't showed up, and to her relief he didn't ever. Havoc's letter a few days later confirmed this.

_Riza,_

_Bad news. I'm sure you've already heard this—even as far out in the boondocks as you are._

_There's been a massive attack—we lost a lot of really good people. Remember that alchemist kid, Russel Tringham? He died yesterday. I had to tell his brother._

_I do have some good news though, nobody from our old unit was killed. The colonel sustained some pretty nasty injuries, but they're optimistic about his chances._

_Don't worry—I'll keep you posted._

_Jean._

Riza remembered the relief she felt as she confirmed he was alive, and then the terrible feeling of guilt as she remembered all the others who had been killed.

She stepped out of the warm sunshine and into her tent. It was still surprisingly warm for being as far north as they were at this time of year. Not that she was complaining.

She had been here for almost a year now, and while she still wondered daily if it was the right choice, in her heart she knew it was.

_This way you can't screw things up._

Riza was glad, Havoc had stopped asking her when she was coming back. It only made being away harder.

She really did miss everybody—including Hayate— more than she would ever let on. The news of what had happened to Roy had almost made her make the long trip back to Central.

She was still helping her country out here, still a devoted soldier. She belonged here. Being in a place where death and war were both so close didn't leave her much time to dwell on personal matters. It was numbing—she could throw herself into her duties, and then at night she had no dreams. Life and death—that was the cycle. You either fought to save lives, or you fought to end them. No matter what, you still fought.

"Lt. Hawkeye!" A voice called, interrupting her inner monologue. "Commander wants a word."

Riza sighed, checking to make sure Havoc's letter was tucked away before turning to leave. It was time to get back to work.

* * *

_Jean,_

_Sorry I took so long to write back. No—I'm not ignoring you. I'm just really busy._

_Things here are getting more tense everyday, I'm not sure if we'll be able to prevent a war or not. Two days ago one of the senior commanders was killed. Needless to say, that put a strain on negotiations. _

_I'm glad to hear he's gotten better. I almost came back when I heard, but there really wasn't anything I could do to help so I figured I'd just stay out of the way. _

_Give him and everybody else by best._

_I'll write again soon, when I have more time._

_Riza.

* * *

_

**Thanks for reading! I've got this story roughly outlined, so hopefully there will be more of a cohesive feel to everything.**


	3. More Than Meets The Eye

**Thanks a ton for all the reviews guys--I'm so not worthy! Just as a quick update, I changed the summary so I hope it's better now. There are couple things I'd like to say about this chapter, but I'll save it for the note at the end.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Chapter 2:**

**More Than Meets The Eye**

* * *

Mustang whistled softly as he threw another black shirt into his travel bag. It had been three weeks since his release from the hospital, and in truth he was finally starting to feel a bit more like himself.

Havoc had shown up at his doorstep one night, several bottle clutched in one hand, a pack of cigarettes and lighter in the other. The blonde lieutenant didn't offer a real explanation as to why he was there, but he didn't need to—they both knew.

They talked about old times while the bottles slowly grew empty. Roy hadn't seen him since before he left to serve at the border—almost a year.

When they ran out of alcohol, they settled for the dull buzz of the cigarettes instead.

"If you could go back and change one thing, what would it be?" Havoc asked out of the blue, never once tearing his gaze away from the ceiling.

The sun was starting to come up now, and in the matter of a few hours both men were supposed to be at work. Not that it really mattered.

He exhaled deeply. "I…don't know."

_There are so many things I wish I could change…_

"Time doesn't flow backwards, Roy. You can't change what's happened."

Havoc had changed when he went to the border, Mustang realized. When he left, despite all his years of service in the military he still had the almost childish belief in the good of the world. Now, he was just a cynical jackass like the rest of them—being introspective only when drunk and secretly waiting for the bullet with your name on it.

Roy didn't reply, and Havoc didn't bother to push him for an answer.

The beautiful thing about drinking with somebody else, Roy had decided long ago, was that you always seemed to understand without saying a word.

Neither spoke. The silence only broken by the sound of their soft exhaling in the otherwise dead room. The smoke from their cigarettes spiraled towards the ceiling in lethargic swirls as each man thought deep thoughts and waited for the sun to rise and end the long night.

Zipping the bag closed, Roy checked to make sure he hadn't left anything important behind.

_How can I leave anything important behind, when everything important has already left?_

* * *

The sheets rustled as she pulled them tighter to her body. She wasn't asleep anymore, but at least she wasn't awake either. She could still dream.

Lying there, Riza tried to remember everything she could about him.

How had his skin felt pressed against hers? What did his laugh sound like when he was truly amused by something?

Flopping over, she ran a hand unconsciously through her long, blonde hair.

How did it feel when he did that? Pressing her eyes closed harder she tried to recall the feeling. He had always loved her hair.

She felt herself drifting closer to waking; balancing precariously on the edge between in such a way one push would send her falling. Falling back to reality.

How many times had she been close to loosing him?

_Too many._

The last time she thought she had lost him has been during his court marshal trial for 'assassinating' the Füher.

The night before he was sentenced they had lain together on his bed. Him, propped haphazardly against the backboard, her, curled up against him. Her head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly played with her hair.

The didn't speak. There wasn't anything she could say that he didn't already know. And there wasn't anything he could say that would make her feel better. So they settled for not speaking at all.

Until.

"Do you hear that, Riza?"

She looked up at him, confused.

"Listen. You will."

She strained her ears for the mysterious sound—but the room was quiet. She started to lift her head from his lap, only to feel his hand gently push her back down. It was then she heard it.

The soft ticking of his pocket watch.

Again, she looked at him with a confused expression. What had he wanted her to hear?

"You hear it?" he asked, no longer running his hand through his hair, but wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

She nodded.

"That's the sound of time slipping away." Roy said, as he pulled her even closer than before. She could feel his warm breath tickling her skin as he spoke in a hushed whisper. "My time passing."

And even though he had meant it as a parting—a final farewell—it turned out he hadn't needed it. He was cleared of all charges, and the little watch went on ticking, just as his heart went on beating.

At least when he thought he was leaving he said goodbye.

That was more than Riza could say for herself

She hadn't even told him she was leaving.

Lifting her head from the pillow, it felt heavy. Weighted down by all the feelings she had been remembering—all the images and memories pulling at her mind and trying to force their way back into her heart.

She pushed them away.

_Don't forget, it's better this way,_ she reminded herself.

In the distance, the wakeup call sounded shrilly. She didn't have time to deal with the past. She had a whole day ahead to deal with first.

* * *

Havoc puzzled over the news he had just received. Mustang…transferred? It just didn't make sense.

He slumped lower in the booth as the rest of the patrons in the bar continued their loud conversations and drunken laugher. Whose idea had it been to come here anyways? He wondered. Breda's?

The short man in question was over a different table with several ladies, leaving Havoc very much alone in their booth.

Usually, he would have been over there with his friend, flirting with anything female that moved. But for some reason he felt distracted tonight. He glared at the mug of beer on the table—Hell, he didn't even feel like drinking!

_What's wrong with me?! _He thought exasperatedly.

He didn't know. Something just wasn't right about the whole thing. He wasn't sure what. But something was definitely _very _wrong…he could feel it.

Breda's laughter drifted over to him, loud and gruff, just like always. Havoc cradled his head in his hands.

The evening couldn't be over soon enough.

* * *

Riza was surprised at how easy it was to forget him. It hadn't been at first, but by now she was a pro. The only time it was truly difficult anymore was when she was asleep—like this morning.

That had been a mistake. She usually didn't give into temptation like that. She wasn't usually so weak. The only thing looking back accomplished, Riza had decided, was reminding you of what you're missing.

A large crowd was gathered by the base entrance. Judging by the size, this was the day when the next wave of soldiers would arrive, refreshing the worn thin force that had been at work for months.

Her stomach growled, and after hesitantly checking her watch she decided that she had just enough time to check for mail before grabbing a bite to eat.

Scanning over the numerous wooden slots, Riza located hers quickly and pulled the single letter out.

* * *

_Riza,_

_Sorry to be brief, but I want to make sure you get this in time._

_Heads up: Roy's been transferred to the border. He should be there within the week._

_If you need me to come, let me know._

_Havoc

* * *

_

She clutched the paper tightly in her hand, the paper crumpling and threatening to rip.

He couldn't be here.

He shouldn't be here.

How could he become Füher if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere?

Or even worse, how could he become Füher if he died in the middle of nowhere?

This wasn't right…

_Relax!_ She inwardly chided _So long as you stay out of the way, he'll finish his time and go back to Central. Everything will go back to how it's supposed to be. _

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. She could do this. All she had to do was stay out of his way, and not draw attention to herself. It wouldn't be a problem at all; she always tried to stay in the back round anyways.

In that moment Riza was sure everything would turn out alright. And it might have, if she hadn't spotted a raven haired man in the crowd.

* * *

**Again, thank you for reading. As for thoughts on this chapter...eh... I think it's a bit dull. Actually I fear the whole story may be. I know what's going to happen, it's just the actual writing part that's proving dificult XD **

**If anybody is interested in being a beta and/or helping by bouncing ideas PLEASE contact me. I promise I don't bite :D**

**Thanks again.**


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